


Dennis kills The Waitress

by churchonthehill



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Other, bUT THEN I ACTUALLY DID IT, btw i dont ship these two please dont read this as a ship fic, i dk why i wrote this at first it seemed like a random thought
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 13:42:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17468684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/churchonthehill/pseuds/churchonthehill
Summary: The title is pretty self-explanatory. Dennis kills the Waitress but I'm too lazy to write out actions right now , so instead, this mess was formed. I hope you like it , or alternatively, it makes you wanna claw your eyes out after reading it. Since, I'll admit , it kinda sucks.





	Dennis kills The Waitress

[ Sheriff's office, 100 Broad Street #5, Philadelphia, PA 19110. 

8:00 p.m.

Dennis Reynolds, local bar owner of the infamous ‘Paddy’s Pub’ confesses to the murder of a coffee shop waitress.Police have sought for records of the woman’s birth name; thus far, no information has come to light. For the sake of clarity, she will be referred to as ‘ The Waitress’, a name which locals say they have known her by for years. 

Reynolds’ confession is being recorded for both accuracy and with the intent that he will not try and alter his confession before the court. ]

 

I’m not a bad man. No, please, don’t get me wrong. I’m really not a bad guy. I own a bar, a business. I pay my taxes, never let the lights mix with the darks in the wash, and I even throw the neighbor’s dog a bone - quite literally - when I can. 

I’ll have you know: I absolutely detest dogs. 

So you tell me, Officer? Does this sound like a man capable of murder? Of chopping some innocent coffee girl into pieces and keeping her dismembered head in the freezer? If you ask me? I’d say negative. 

Keeping that in mind, I ask that you not refer to what happened here as an act of murder , but rather, one of desperation. And maybe? Even love. 

Yes, love. Don’t look at me like that, Officer. I know it sounds crass, but I assure you, that love has just as much to do with this as the heavy-duty saw which I used to dissect her body. 

Where do I begin? Oh, that’s right. I’ve known the Waitress since high school. I wouldn’t say we were close friends; I wouldn’t even call us friends. She did have a crush on me, though. Yup. One that runs twenty-something years back, now. 

It’s kind of unfortunate really, because my buddy, Charlie - yup, yup, the stout one that smells like cheese. Yeah. Yeah, that’s the guy. Anyways, my buddy, Charlie, has had the biggest infatuation with her since like , oh, Christ, has it been since 10th grade? Something like that.

And, you know, I’d hate to rat on him at a time like this, but the guy has been stalking her for over a decade now! A decade! Just thought I’d let you know in case you ever get bored with the obvious and are thinking of jumping on some new material. 

Is that enough for a backstory? Again, we don’t really have much history together. I did sleep with her once or twice. My god, and it was terrible. I couldn’t even shoot my load, if you’re catching my drift here. But I swear, each time I stuck it in, the chick was practically in a seizure-like state induced from explosive orgasmic bliss, that only my dick could provide. Apparently. 

This is the part where love comes in - I suppose. I don’t really feel the need to go over her fawning obsession with me in detail - frankly, it makes me very uncomfortable. But, it was that same love that encouraged me to permit her into my chambers that night. 

You see, Officer. I was...desperate. So desperate was I for the sensation - the warmth- of another human’s body against my very own of carnal inhumanity, that I caved and I rang her, knowing full well that she’d never say no. 

I mean. She’d never say no. 

Truthfully, I must admit, I don’t know what overcame me. The night had started exactly as any other proposition for sex would have. I was inside of her, yada-yada, her screaming my name...

When suddenly, I was overcome with an intrinsic desire to hear her say she loved me. I don’t know why it came about, if I am being honest with you, Officer. What I did know, though, was that my body would fall apart,my soul would lie crushed underneath sediment of flesh and bone, if she didn’t.

And given her lowered defenses - and my penis inside of her - she obliged.

She yelled her confession, a thousand ‘ I love yous’ rebounding off the bedroom walls - and I- ensnared in their grip like a fly in a spider’s web. 

I swear to you, that I almost cried. It wasn’t the person behind those words I was attached to either - no, no, no. It was the idea...The abstraction, that if I closed my eyes and allowed my mind to wander, would take ahold of me and allow me to imagine anyone, anybody, in her place.

But when I opened my eyes, she was still there. My, she was still fuckin’ there!

Officer, I grew so sick with disgust, so sick with grief, that there was some lowly coffee shop waitress beneath me and not a flaxen-haired beauty with giant tits and a Barbie doll waist, that I felt the only way towards relief was to release whatever beauty lay dormant between her ribs. 

Maybe, just maybe, the woman I love - Jackie Denardo, by the way, if you will note. Would rise to the surface like an apparition seeping from her pores. 

Am I - Am I insane for thinking like that?   
That is when my hands found their way around her throat. She was out before I could count to ten. 

It’s very easy to kill someone via strangulation, as long as you do it right.

I’ve done my research. 

I panicked at first, even threw up several times, then I began sawing. Cutting her up like a slab of meat, you see, really helped reduce the weight of all the garbage bags I ended up carrying into the trunk of my Range Rover. 

I disposed of her remains in Fairmount Park under broad daylight. No one seemed to notice or care.

I kept the head as a memento. Don’t all killers do that? Keep mementos? I remember reading about it in a college psychology class…

No, no, but I assure you, though. This whole thing wasn’t a murder.

I mean, after all, wouldn’t most of us do anything in the face of love? 

I know - no, I know- you would too.


End file.
